


The Thief Of Innocence

by SinfullySimple



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Love, Child Abuse, His Name Is May, Hospitals, OC, Protective Jack, Snyder's A+ Parenting, all the pain, jack is a good big brother, tagging is hard, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-29 01:39:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinfullySimple/pseuds/SinfullySimple
Summary: Snyder came home mad. All jack wanted was to protect his brothers and keep his family together.





	The Thief Of Innocence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomedayonBroadway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayonBroadway/gifts).

> Hello! I am back again with another terrible story! All the angst is in this one, and it can get a bit descriptive. Thank you to SomedayonBroadway for letting me use her character May! 
> 
> TW Descriptive Child Abuse
> 
> Please stay safe and enjoy the story! There should be an epilogue coming soon.

“Please,” Jack gasped, struggling to pull himself towards his screaming brothers. His whole body seared with pain, begging him to give up, to give in to the darkness that hovered at the edge of his vision. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. “P...please,” he said again weakly, not sure if the man could hear him over the noise. “Stop,” He fought back a scream as he pulled himself forward with his arms, careless to the red trial his stomach was slowly leaving behind on the carpet. He looked up again, trying to figure out how much farther he had to go when he saw Snyder’s fist come down to meet Race’s- his baby brother’s face again, and again, and again, and again. 

“Please!” Charlie sobbed from his position on the ground by the couch. His bad leg was twisted at an odd angle that couldn’t be natural, and the tears that streamed down his face turned dark as they rolled through the blood and grim on the youngest boy’s face. His crutch laid broken and splintered back in their bedroom and there were dark bruises starting to form a ring around his pale neck.

Racetrack tried to curl into a fetal position, putting his hands and arms over his head and face to try and protect them. But it was no good. Instead of punching him, Snyder stood tall and started to bring his heavy boot down on the teen’s back and side. As his brother’s screams filled the air once more, Jack mustered all the strength he could, and pushed himself off of the ground, stumbling over to their guardian before pushing on the man with all his strength. Vaguely his mind registered the irony in the name. A guardian was someone who protects others. Someone who cared for people other than himself. This man was the opposite. He was a demon. 

As he fell with the man, he heard Crutchie call out to him, the yell coming out as a choked sob. He could see Antonio still curled up on the floor and almost cried in relfile when he saw the kid shudder, indicating he was still alive and breathing. But the relief was short lives as his battered body hit the floor. A scream was torn from his body and his vision whited out. Lighting seemed to be running up his left arm and fire seemed to be eating his torso to nothing. He could feel the three stab wounds still bleeding and knew he couldn’t have long. If he could just get his brothers safe before then, maybe he could die in some sort of twisted peace. 

“You little brat!” Snyder yelled, rising to his feet before Jack could even think of moving. The older man looked down at the boy and shook his head. He looked over the other two sobbing boys and sneered. “Stop your racket, or he dies,” He said he pointing to Jack. The two boys quickly tried to stifle their crying. They knew from experience that the man would hold true to his word. 

As Snyder looked over his three charges, he tried to figure out what he could do that would finally make them understand that this was his house, and that meant that they followed his rules. Then he remembered the whip he had stored in his closet. He looked back down at the dazed boy at his feet and kicked him in the ribs, ensuring that he wouldn’t being going anywhere while he went to grab is tool.

Crutchie looked at his brothers as Snyder went around the corner. Race was still half curled into a ball on his side, his body shaking with barely silence sobbs, about three feet away. Jack was laid out on his back about five feet away from where he currently sat and Cutchie could make out the pain etched into his normally smiling face. But the oldest turned his head to look at him and gave him a small smile Crutchie thought was meant to be reassuring. 

“Jack,” he cried, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Shhh,” His brother hushed him. “You’re alright Charlie,” 

“But Jack-”

“No buts kid,” He said, taking a deep breath. He looked to the left of Crutchie and his eyes landed on Race who was still curled up and shaking. A look of determination settled on his face and before Crutchie could protest, Jack rolled onto his stomach and slowly pulled himself over between the boys. Every movement brought more tears to his eyes and the darkness even closer, but he fought against it. He knew Snyder wasn’t done. It would be too much of a mercy, and whatever else he had up his sleeve couldn’t be good. 

“Race,” Jack breathed when he made it over. Snyder had been gone almost five minutes now, and Jack knew they didn’t have much time. But he couldn’t just watch his brother suffer. He knew Race was probably deep into a panic attack. He could hear the kid starting to hyperventilate, and his sobbing was getting louder. So, he rolled over till he was right beside the kid and propped himself up on one arm. 

“Race,” He called again, but he still received no answer. If he looked closely, he was pretty sure the kid had started to shake more. Gently, he laid a bloody hand on the boy’s side. The effect was immediate. 

The beaten boy let out a strangled scream and tried to curl into himself further. Jack quickly reached over and clamped his hand down over Race’s mouth. It only served to frighten the terrified boy more, but they couldn’t afford Snyder coming back any sooner than need be. 

“Race,” Jack breathed into the boy’s ear. “Racer, it's me. It’s Jack. Your okay. It’s okay,” The boy just hook his head, trying to dislodge Jack’s hand. “Tony! Antonio! Angelo dagli occhi blu,” He said their code words. It simply meant ‘Blue Eyed Angel’, something that Crutchie had suggested. It was meant to calm Race down. To let him know that no matter what was going on, one of his brothers was there, and that they were real. 

Jack remembered the night that Snyder had tortured the poor boy with recordings of him and Charlie. Screams and comforting words alike meant to torture and drag him out of the ball he so often curled himself into. It had taken hours for the curly haired boy to even consider that his brothers were actually there, and even more to convince him to talk. He had just sat on their bed, staring off into space. He sat stock still, his face devoid of any emotion, and his eyes as empty as a dark hole. Even Charlie couldn’t get him to respond. 

After that, they made up code phrases for each of them, just in case. And sure enough, as the words processed in Racer’s mind, the boy slowly stopped struggling. He opened his eyes and turned his head so that he could see Jack’s face and sobbed in relief when he was met with a small smile. He turned as quickly as he could and curled into Jack’s side. 

“Shh, Racer,” Jack soothed. “I gotcha now. I gotcha,” 

“Jack?” Crutchie tentative voice came from behind them. Jack looked over his shoulder, ignoring the pain that the movement brought, and took in his youngest brother. The kid’s hair was a mess, drying blood quickly matting it together, and Jack vaguely realized that he needed a haircut. He tried not to think too much about the ring of fingerprints that were now a stark purple against the boy’s pale neck and wrists. He had smaller bruises popping up around the rest of his body, but the damage didn’t seem too bad. When Snyder had come in looking for a fight, he had gone to Crutchie first, knowing it was the best way to provoke Jack and Race, and had gotten on the boy for the B he held in his advanced algebra class. When the little boy had tried to protest, the man had silenced him with a hand around his neck. 

But the worst thing seemed to be the kid’s already bad leg. It seemed to be twisted in the wrong way at the knee, bent sideways in a way no leg should be bent. There was blood on his face from a cut on his forehead, and in some places it was lighter, marking where tears had made their track down. 

Jack nudged the boy in his arms. “Racer, let’s move over by Crutch,” He said, mentally preparing himself for the pain that moving will bring once more. But he couldn’t leave them alone. Couldn’t leave them without comfort when he still had strength and life in his battered body. As they moved and settled, leaning up against the couch, Jack looked at the clock. It had been almost ten minutes. Snyder would be back at any point- hell, he was surprised he wasn’t back yet. But instead of focusing on that he swung an arm around Crutchie, careful not to jostle him too much, and wrapped the other one around Race who had burrowed himself once more into his side. 

“We’se gonna be okay,” Jack said softly, placing a kiss on each of his brother’s heads. Race looked up at him with hopeful eyes, deep, emerald blue begging for his brother to be right. But as heavy footsteps came down the hall once more, Jack watched as the hope shattered.

As Snyder came back into the living room, drink, whip, and rope now in hand, he sneered at what he saw. Somehow, the brat had managed to move, despite being stabbed three times and getting quite the soakin’. He had gathered the other two whelps and seemed to be comforting them. 

“Now you’re in for it you little bastard!” He yelled, approaching the three boys. He could see the younger two shrink back into their brother, trying to hide. The italian boy even tried to hide his face in Kelly’s shoulder. Snyder almost laughed at the sight they made. He was going to enjoy tearing them apart. 

“Mr.Snyder, sir, just hang on a moment-” Kelly started, but he was cut off as the man grabbed the arm that was around the crippled boy and yanked him towards him. The youngest of them cried out as his brother was taken from him, and as his broken leg was jostled. The other one seemed to panic, grabbing hold of Kelly’s waist and holding on as tight as he could, screaming in the dastered language of his. 

“You better get him to let go,” Snyder said, gesturing to the still screaming boy. “Or he’ll get this instead,” He held out the whip for the boy to see clearly, and relished in the violent flinch that came over him as the boy recoiled. He vaguely registered that the younger one started to cry again, but his main attention was focused on the other two. 

“Ya gotta let me go then, Mr.Snyder,” Jack pleaded, his breath hitching as his wounds were stretched and his brother’s arms dug into the one just above his hip. “Please. You can do whateva’ ya want with me, just leave them alone. I just have ta get ‘im off,” Snyder seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking his head. 

“See, you could have used all that time talkin’ to him instead of me. Now we got to do this the hard way,” He unraveled the whip, the air cracking as he snapped it out, and Race screamed once more. It was filled with terror and laced with shattered hope and desperation, and it broke his brothers’ hearts even more. But they didn’t have time to process it as his scream was cut off as Snyder brought down the butt of the handle to the boy’s temple. He immediately went limp and his arms fell from Jack’s waist. 

There was no time wasted as Snyder tied the dark haired boy’s hands together before dragging him over to the coffee table. Throwing him to the ground, he tied the rest of the rope tight around one of the legs, forcing Jack to lay on his already screaming stomach with his hands above his head. 

“It’ll be okay,” Jack said to the boy, trying not to let his voice shake, but failing. “Just don’t look. You hear me Charlie? Ya don’t look! Close your eyes!” He tried to keep his fear and pain out of his voice, but he knew that he didn’t quite succeed. 

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Snyder said, landing a vicious blow to the back of his head. As Jack’s head spun, he could hear that the man was still talking. But the words seemed muffled and distant. He vaguely registered the feeling of cold air on his back, and as he slowly came back to himself, he realized that Snyder had cut his shirt, revealing the flesh of his back to the horrific man. 

“Don’t look!” He shouted before the loud crack of the whip came and blinding pain erupted across his shoulder blades, marking where the first hit landed. The monster of a man that was supposed to protect them rained blow after blow on his back, never wavering in his harshness. He could hear Crutchie sobbing, but when he got the chance to steal a glance at him, he was at least grateful that the kid was doing as he was told, hiding his face in his arms propped up on his one good leg. 

At some point, he must have passed ou,t because the next thing he remembers there were voices shouting in every direction. Several sets of heavy boots stomped their way across the bloodstained carpet, and echoed in his head. A hand came down to touch his shoulder and he groaned, weakly trying to get away from it. Touch only meant pain. 

“Shhh, kid,” A familiar voice said. He cracked his eyes open, hoping for the best. “You’re gonna be okay,” 

“M...May?” He stuttered, his voice coming out as a whisper. But the man seemed to hear him anyway. 

“It’s me kid,” He reassured, starting to work on the rope that bound the sixteen year old. “We’re gonna get you out of here. You and your brothers. We’ll get you safe,” 

“Race?” 

“He’s okay kid. He’ll have a nasty concussion, but he’ll be okay. So will Charlie. We’ll fix you guys up,” Jack simply nodded, his eyes starting to slide shut again. “No no no,” May said, gently tapping his face. He didn’t want to hurt the kid any more, but if he had any chance of surviving to look after his brothers, he had to stay awake. After cutting the ropes that trapped the boy, the detective gently took one of the kids arms and slowly moved it so that it laid at Jack’s side. Jack groaned, but said nothing. After quickly checking that the kid’s eyes were still open, he did the same thing with the other arm. 

“Paramedics are two minutes out, sir,” One of his guys, Thompson, called. May nodded in acknowledgement and took in the apartment. 

The place was a mess. There was trash and empty beer and liquor bottles everywhere. Blood was everywhere on the dirty carpet, as well as some of the furniture. One of the guys had found Charlie’s crutch snapped in half in the bedroom, and the apartment itself wasn’t in great condition. The man of their tortures lay dead a few feet on the far side of Jack. When they had first came in, May had thought for sure that they were gone.That the boys he knew since their mom died ten years ago, had been taken from him. That he had been too slow. Too late. 

It had taken time for him to gather a case against Snyder. The boys had been with him for four years, and had bounced from house to house before then. Nothing seemed to be ruling in their favor. But six months in, when Jack showed up with a bruise here, or Race showed up with a deep cut there, and Charlie’s leg got worse and worse, May had started to suspect that maybe he had a chance. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen his boys hurt. Not all the homes in the system were the best, but he also knew that they would often get into fights at school. Especially Racer. But they were too frequent. To perfect, to be from fights. 

So he started digging. It was what he was good at as head detective after all. But he had found jack-squat on the guy. He recorde came up squeaky clean. “A great home for troubled kids,” the file had read. So he started to track down former foster kids. He even found an article dating back eight years. The headline had read “Troubled Kid Gets Beat To Death In Prejudice Act”. At first, he believed it. But then he pulled up the autopsy reports and saw they truth. 

Strangulation, broken ribs, severe bruising. All normal in a case like this. But the note of bones haven been broken multiple times, the almost permanent bags around his eyes. The scars on his body that were to precice. It screamed abuse. How the man had managed to get away with it was beyond him, but he had. And now the monster had hurt his boys. Had hurt is sons. 

Sons. 

It was such a simple thought, but it caught him off guard. He couldn’t pinpoint when the shift had been made in his mind, but as he thought about it, they had been his for awhile now. Maybe it had been the day he meant the boys, the three of them curled up on the couch of their mothers living room. Jack had been six. Race, who had been smashed into the boy’s side had been four, and little Charlie had been a whopping year old, cradled against Jack’s chest as he slept peacefully, unaware that his life had just shattered before his innocent eyes. 

“No! Stop! Please don’ touch him!” 

The shout quickly brought May out of his thoughts and he turned around sharply. He saw Charlie trying to move, biting his lip and whimpering as he did. He was yelling at Thompson, who had gone to apparently check on Race, if his vicinity was anything to go by. The fourteen year old had yet to wake since they had arrived, and the detective knew that it was generally standard procedure to check the person by now, but these boys were anything but standard. 

“Thompson stop,” He commanded, bringing to whole room’s attention to the situation. But he paid them no mind, quickly standing and walking to Crutchie’s side. He gently put a hand on the kid’s to stop him from moving and caught the boy’s attention. 

“Hey, it’s alright Charlie, it’s alright,” 

“He- he can’t touch Race, May!” he hiccuped out. “You- you can’t let him,” 

May’s heart broke a little more. “Okay. It’s alright. I won’t let him touch ‘im,” Charlie nodded and fell forward a bit into May’s chest, gripping the man’s sleeves in a death grip, and sobbing. 

“Sir?” Thompson said, looking apologetic. 

“It’s alright Thompson. You were just doing your job. But these boys have just been through a lot, if you couldn’t tell. Everyone asks permission before touching them,” He said, addressing the room. All the heads nodded in agreement as they looked at their commander. “Alright,” He said decisively.

“Now Thompson, I want you to come over here and meet Charlie. You’re going to be riding with him in the ambulance. Susa, go over to the oldest there by the table. His name is Jack, you’ll be riding with him. You two are now assigned as their official guardians for the night. I’ll be occupying Anthony. You are to make sure these boy’s stay as calm as possible, and make sure that the best care is given to them. 

“Stay on the radios and pass along any updates. Make sure they know the others are okay. This is a very tight knit group, and they aren’t going to like the separation,” He looked over at Susa, who was now kneeling by Jack. In the distance he could the sirens coming. “He’s sixteen and the most protective, you will have your hands full getting him to stay put while the other two are taken care of,” Susa nodded. “Protect them,” He said simply. Then the paramedics descended upon them, and the chaos ensued.


End file.
